


Lapsang

by heartshapeddog



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Dry Humping, F/M, Grinding, Pet Names, Tea
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-04
Updated: 2018-06-04
Packaged: 2019-05-18 02:09:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14843591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heartshapeddog/pseuds/heartshapeddog
Summary: The tea house didn't become a community theater: an alternate scene.Basically just an excuse to get extra saucy with Julian in Book VII. Featuring: thigh-riding, excessive pet-names.No gendered pronouns or names used for MC, but is described with a cis-female body in mind.





	Lapsang

“I’m glad this place is still around - I never condsidered that it could have gone under, like the South side. It’s been… some years since I’ve been here.”

A light blush paints his cheeks at that, mysteriously. Julian is holding open a musty tapestry for you, one of many lining the buildings in the alley. You wouldn’t have been able to tell one from the other, but Julian found it unerringly.

As you duck under his arm, the smell of many teas and tonics fills your nose - fresh green, smoky black, redolent ceylon, lemongrass. There is an undercurrent of incense and perfume, not too strong. As your eyes adjust to the dim, you see only more hanging tapestries before you, blocking off the entrance in a little cube. All around is the soft murmur of many conversations behind muffling curtains, a susurrus that makes you wonder how large the entire place is with so many voices. No distinct words can be heard, creating a white-noise effect that might make someone feel safe to speak about anything they wish.

Julian studies the curtains around you carefully before choosing one to move aside - there is a narrow hallway beyond, lined with more hangings. He chooses another further down the aisle, and another beyond, and then a third before the curtain reveals a little table. Much like the entryway, it is a room created from hanging fabrics, but this one has a floor of sumptuous cushions.

“After you, my dear,” he says, that wolfish grin overtaking his face. You know without thinking too hard that this place is casually magical to guarantee patron privacy - there must be spellwork in the tapestries to lead one to vacant rooms.

On the small table there are several round tokens. Julian examines them as he sits to unlace his boots. You toe off your slippers near the low table and sit on the edge of one of the fat pillows.

“Any preferences? It seems they do still serve that smoky tea.” Julian brandishes a red and black token. You spread them out on the table and try to see if you can decipher their meanings. One in particular seems to appeal to you - the surface is marked with a geometric pattern in white and orange, with a dusky green background. You choose it without deliberating.

“I've never doubted your taste,” Julian says, purring approvingly. He shucks his cloak off near his boots and throws himself across the pillows in a luxuriant sprawl. He does nothing further with his token, and so neither do you. Magical, indeed.

“Julian, you said we needed to talk?”

“And so we do! Please, make yourself comfortable.”

This is, of course, accompanied by a waggling brow. You crack a smile involuntarily, blushing to see it answered on Julian’s face. He sits up nearer to the table, elegant ankles crossed. Somehow two steaming cups of tea have appeared there, in fine ceramic ware. Asra would love this place.

Julian’s tea smells like a campfire as he lifts his cup - you watch his throat work for a moment. It’s easier without his eyes on you. Your own mug is filled with an herbaceous green with notes of citrus and a smooth feel. As you lower your cup, you catch Julian glancing away from your face. He’s flushing an attractive pink in the warm room, even down to the center of his chest. Was his shirt always this loose?

“Are you sure you’re comfortable all the way over there, doll?”

Julian sets his cup aside and re-adopts his sprawl, leaned against a bank of cushions. His thighs are spread carelessly. Is that an invitation?

“ _You_ certainly look relaxed.”

He peels off each glove in turn, loosening the fingers with his teeth.

“And you look like you need some assistance relaxing,” he says, running his bare hands over his thighs. They _are_ comfortable-looking thighs. 

“Is that seat taken?”

He catches your meaningful glance towards the vee of his legs. His expression goes from stunned to lascivious in a mere moment. 

“I believe this seat is _reserved_ for you, kitten.”

You climb carefully into his lap, too shy to put your legs fully around him. You compromise by sitting on one of his thighs, perched and blushing.

“Sweet,” he purrs, brushing your warm cheek with his thumb. “Too sweet.” The feel of his naked fingers is startling, as is the sight of the murderer’s mark. There is something oddly intimate about his bare hands and feet - you realize the only other time you’ve seen them both at once was at Mazelinka’s, in bed.

You consider bringing up the reason you came here, but the way he’s looking at you arrests your thoughts. Instead, you put your hands on his chest and lean in.

“Ah, kiss me,” he murmurs, and his hands are large and cool against your jaw, fingers spanning around to the back of your head, scratching gently in your hair. His eye closes as he waits, his mouth soft and ready. You nibble on his plush lower lip instead, relishing the pleased little gasp he emits. He tastes like his tea, smoky and intense. You dip your tongue between his lips, prompting a surprised moan from him. He seems content to let you do as you wish.

You pull back just enough to tease, “Is this what you wanted to talk about?”

His expression cools for a moment, but he puts his hands on your hips with a welcoming pressure. He leans his head back against the pillows, putting the length of his neck on display. His eye is hooded as he looks through his lashes at you.

“ _Fuck_ the talking.”

 You laugh, leaning in again - the angle is steeper this time, forcing Julian to happily take more of your weight. His neck looks like it needs kissed, so you put your lips just under his jaw.

“Oh, you’re adorable, I could melt,” he mutters, giving you a squeeze with those strong hands. “But if you’re going to kiss me there, give me a bite instead. Don’t be shy.”

You run your teeth along his skin experimentally.

“Yesss,” he hisses, “more like that. Don’t be afraid to leave your mark on me. I want to keep something of yours.”

What did he mean by that? You want to ask, but you watch the red lines of your bite fade back into creamy-pale skin with fascination. You put your teeth against him more firmly, sucking a red patch under his ear. He lurches up against you before settling, panting now. The motion shifts you on his leg, rubbing just a bit.

He pulls you up for more kissing, hands pushing at your lower back, which rocks your hips again. The pressure is exciting, not to mention his ardent touches and happy moans. His hands become more adventurous, moving up around your waist and fingertips teasing under your breasts. You’re starting to feel a little dizzy in the best way - you haven’t had so much time and privacy with Julian before. You get the feeling that one could do almost anything in this teahouse; there must be privacy spells simmering in the weave of those curtains.

Emboldened, you rock your hips intentionally this time, seeking that sweet pressure over your clit. Julian’s response is incandescent.

“Ohhh, you naughty thing - yes, lovely, _use_ me -” he pants into your mouth, hands pushing to encourage your movements. It seems to have made Julian less shy as well; he moves one hand over your breast, rubbing and squeezing softly. He’s never touched you there, and the novelty of that amplifies the feeling itself. You can feel your nipples tightening, yearning for his touch. You take his other hand and move it to your chest, so he can feel both of your breasts. You’re grinding unashamed on his thigh now, chasing your pleasure.

Julian is moaning softly with each heavy breath, as though he’s the one working towards orgasm. He pulls one side of your low collar down, baring your breast, and takes what he can into his mouth. It startles a shocked moan out of you, and suddenly -

“I think I’m going to come,” you gasp, realizing as you say it that it’s true. Julian growls around his mouthful, working his teeth and tongue gently but insistently over your nipple, sucking and panting alternately. In between, he rasps, “oh _fuck -_ do it on me, darling,” tangles his fingers into your hair, and pulls back.

Your head tilts back with his grip, scalp tingling, nipples tight and arched back, and somehow it’s the precise thing - your vision fades for a moment as the shuddering overtakes you. You collapse inward like your strings have snapped, hips jerking in time with the orgasm that you’ve been brought to. You can hear Julian groaning encouragements but not whatever noise you make - but your throat feels hoarse afterward, and rattles slightly with your panting. Julian is still talking -

“- use me, _use_ me, gorgeous, yes-”

 -and he nips quickly at your exposed breast as you’re coming down, just to make you yelp and squirm. A light sweat breaks out on your back and scalp, and Julian pulls you close as you catch your breath. You can feel the hard, hot line of his cock against your leg as he lays you on top of him, but he doesn’t push it against you or arrange you to touch it specifically. You try to snake a hand down to feel it, and he lets you for a moment before catching your hand up to his lips. 

“I have all I need,” he murmurs. His smile is soft, and he looks… reverent, somehow. He looks like he has more to say, but only wraps you in his arms tightly, nose in your hair. You stay this way for several minutes, mind blissfully empty. Julian seems like his thoughts are catching up to him. You can practically hear his gears turning.

“Are you alright?” you ask, leaning up just enough to catch sight of his face. 

He tucks a stray strand of hair behind your ear, expression bittersweet.

“I had a really great time today,” you say, aiming for reassuring. His sharp grin comes back, sly.

“I can attest to that first-hand, I think,” he replies. He looks away for a moment, lower lip caught in his teeth. “How do you feel about dinner at the Raven? My treat. And then, a walk by the docks.”

Sounds lovely, you think, and the price is right.

“Sure, let’s go.”  

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry I made Julian's break up with you even worse


End file.
